And All That Could Have Been
by taralkariel
Summary: (One-shot) As the planet is imploding around him, Kylo Ren contemplates his failures and what led him to this. And what he's going to do about it.


**A/N: I will probably write something longer to explore what happens post-TFA later, but I hope you will enjoy this ficlet :) Please read and review!**

His father was wrong – he did need the mask. Of course, Han Solo had been referring to something else entirely, but he couldn't help but think of those words as his grandfather's lightsaber slashed painfully across his face. He went down hard and made little attempt to get back up, fixated by her rage and her power, waiting to see if she would kill him. The ground shook beneath them and suddenly split, bringing him to dubious safety on the other side of a newly-formed ravine. Her gaze, assessing, remained locked on him for a moment before she turned and ran.

Letting himself lay back in the snow, he marveled at the change in her. She shouldn't have been able to do those things. She was an untrained scavenger. Supreme Leader Snoke had been shocked at his failure and expected him to bring her to him easily. But it wasn't easy, not when she was discovering what she could do. Not when Han Solo showed up to distract him. Not when he was wounded and tired and had to clean up Hux's mess. His fists curled impotently into the snow at the thought of Hux and of that traitor. He'd known something was wrong. He should have done something about it right away instead of assuming his rival could handle the situation.

Though then he never would have found the girl. And she was important. But he'd screwed that up, and Snoke would make his displeasure known when he saw him again. If. If he saw him again. The ground was still shaking and he could feel the planet's core becoming increasingly unstable. So maybe he wouldn't have to worry about any of this much longer.

Perhaps summoned by his thoughts, a light appeared, searching the forest near him. He weighed his options, then rolled over in preparation of getting up. That turned out to be a bad idea – the wound in his side opened and his face ached, causing him to curl and press a gloved hand to the gash across his features. It would scar. Lightsabers cauterized immediately, so all the injuries he sustained in this fight would be around to remind him of his failure for the rest of his life, however long that might be. The hole made by Chew – by the bowcaster was bleeding and might not scar quite as badly. Not that it mattered.

Footsteps crunching in the snow near him forced him to focus on something besides the pain, and he dragged himself to his feet. It was a challenge, but he was not going to let Hux have the satisfaction of finding someone to carry him.

"Ah, Ren. Leader Snoke would have been disappointed if all I could return with was your body," the general stated, hanging back. He was flanked by two Stormtroopers, who also stopped moving toward him when he was on his feet.

"Indeed," he replied coldly, and began limping toward the shuttle.

It was slow going and took a great deal of his power to keep moving forward, but his anger and self-hatred were helping on that end. Hux and his men waited until he was on board before hurrying away to see about removing them from this forsaken planet. Momentarily unobserved, Kylo Ren allowed himself to lean heavily against the smooth wall nearest him and exhaled slowly. Spots of light were dancing in front of his eyes and he felt suddenly uncertain of his ability to survive this. Maybe he didn't want to.

"Sir," a voice behind him. A familiar voice. Phasma, he realized after a moment of confusion. He turned gingerly to face her. Whatever she thought of seeing him in this state was not evident from her body language or expression, and he was too exhausted to use any other means. She stood at attention, so clearly still considered him a superior officer. Which was all that mattered, really. If only Hux would do the same…

"We have prepared your quarters, sir," she continued after a pause when he said nothing.

She motioned and he managed to keep limping along, wishing he could continue putting some of his weight on the wall. He felt so heavy… It occurred to him after a few steps that they were in _his_ shuttle. Which made him both irritated at Hux, for the presumption, but also relieved. It was relatively long-range, and wouldn't require the packed-in efficiency of a troop transport when it came to accommodations. The quarters to which Phasma referred would actually be his, not something hastily arranged to make him more comfortable. Not that he would really expect that anyway.

The space was small, but it was nice to be somewhere familiar. Phasma took her leave immediately, and the door helpfully shut behind her. It wasn't anything like the rooms he had aboard the Finalizer, the fate of which he wondered about vaguely, but would do. Additionally, there was a medical droid waiting for him. Had they known he would be injured? It was a reasonable assumption, he supposed.

Dropping heavily onto the available bench, he submitted to the droid's ministrations apathetically. There wasn't much that could be done with sealed wounds, after all. These weren't his first lightsaber-induced injuries and likely wouldn't be the last. Assuming the girl had survived the planet's destruction. He was pretty sure that she had – such power being snuffed out would be noticeable even in his weakened state. And if she was picked up by the Resistance, there was little doubt that she would be the one to bring Skywalker back.

So there would be plenty of opportunities to be on the receiving end of a lightsaber in the future. The thought should have distressed him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he focused on the droid applying something to his side and thought about when he'd started training with the lightsaber. He'd been adept when he was young, but adolescence had brought longer limbs and an unexpected clumsiness. Mother had worried.

He closed his eyes and pushed the thought away. Later, he'd learned to be lethal. To use his long reach with deadly accuracy. Snoke had taught him that. He and the Knights of Ren had given him a sense of purpose and somewhere to belong, and he wouldn't betray them with thoughts of his childhood. They were doing what needed to be done, ridding the galaxy of a dangerous and cruel regime, and he was proud to use his gifts for something so important.

A hiss escaped him as the droid addressed the injury on his shoulder – it was deeper than expected. It showed how angry she had been. Was she driven to rage because of her feelings for the traitorous FN-2187? Or because of her presence when he'd had to – when he had – when Han Solo had been killed.

The feeling of the older man's hand on his cheek and the expression on his face returned with startling effect, and he pushed the droid away roughly. "Get out," he snarled. It did. As soon as the door was sealed, he dropped his face into his hands and gave into his despair. His shoulders shook, though no tears fell, except for a few drops of blood from the gash that he hadn't let the droid address.

Had he meant it? When his father – when Han Solo had offered, had told him to come home… Was that really an option? It couldn't be. It had been years. Years since he'd been with his family. Years since he'd betrayed what they stood for, years since he turned against them. Years since his father had returned to a life a smuggling, his mother to leading, and his uncle to exile. It couldn't be undone by a simple entreaty. Not when the First Order was so powerful and gaining more ground every year, not when Skywalker still refused to join his sister, not when Han Solo and his son were trapped on a planet taken by the First Order and turned into a weapon greater than had ever previously been achieved. Not when there was so much of greater import at work and no home to return to.

So maybe all those years of running had caused a change of heart in the legendary smuggler. Maybe he was finally willing to put aside everything that happened in the hopes of having his family again. But he was just one man. And there was too many other powers moving in the galaxy. So Kylo Ren had been forced to kill his father. To show his loyalty, to destroy Ben once and for all, to prove he could be more, be stronger, than Anakin Skywalker had been.

Sitting back slowly, he stared dully at the door and thought of all the blood on his hands. Leaving was never an option. Going home was never an option. He was Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of Ren, hand-picked second-in-command to Supreme Leader Snoke, and there was only one thing left for him to do. It was just a pity that other people – his father, his mother, Skywalker, the girl – were getting caught up in it.


End file.
